Shift
by Mandy138
Summary: There is always a single defining moment which is remembered as the turning point in a relationship. [Timeline is nothing definate, just know that Kakashi is 'solo'.]


* * *

The day had been long and Sakura was just wrapping up her work and research for Tsunade. Her body was against her, protesting any more movement from the previous day-long abuse of sitting and hunching. A pity because she still wanted and planned to go to the festivities of the spring carnival tonight. Yes, it promised to be an even longer day yet. It didn't help that its length was complicated by the intermittent showers. The weather was still in that awkward changeover of winter to spring; it seemed to be slow-going this year and she wondered if the late April carnival would be rained out.

Her fingers worked on shuffling the last of the rumpled stacks of leaves of papers together, half-listening to the Godaime's usually bickering. Her hands struggled to form the neat stacks. She wanted to remember where she left off so that she wouldn't waste precious time tomorrow in regaining her paths of thought. Clumping the remaining scrolls into a pile was proving more difficult and time consuming than she had the patience to deal with; her heavy fingers halted at the muffled words that had just tumbled from Tsunade's mouth, her exhausted brain finally processing them.

He was back.

Who was she talking to? No, it didn't matter. More words. She absently pushed herself up and belatedly realized it to be Gai as heavy feet trod to the hokage's inner office door.

He was back.

"Where is he?" her shaky voice quivered, fist clenching at her chest as her eyes pierced both Gai's and Tsunade's gazes. Her lips were pressed firmly into a thin line to still the trembling. "You said he was back."

Gai and Tsunade shared an intense glance before looking back towards the young woman braced against the doorway. Both of the distinguished adults' faces softened at the desperation. They understood the absolution of loneliness only the sometimes-present teammate could give in the absence of the rest of her comrades.

"Yes," Tsunade intoned gently. "But he's being sent out on another mission."

Her eyes widened. Back-to-back missions? Just like that after he'd been gone so long already? "But he _just_ _got back_! You're going to leave me alone so soon?"

Another apologetic and knowing glance was shared between Gai and the hokage before she turned back to her apprentice. "I'm sorry, Sakura, I understand how you must feel…but his skills are invaluable to us."

She whipped around, not wanting to hear any explanations. She had finally been there when he got back and had a chance to see him for at least a time, to reminisce, to train maybe, but he was gone already? No! She ran from the building, knowing that she was being selfish, that giving in to her emotions this way was uncalled for, knowing that such was the shinobi path. But she was so lonely, damn it.

The tears were there beading in her eyes but she just couldn't give in to the selfishness completely and stubbornly held them back. She knew his skills were needed, knew he was great. After all, he was _always_ on missions… But her anger was dissipating and her leaden legs soon slowed her to a walk. Even now, the almost-rain of sparse fat drops plopping against her and the road were an annoyance of the 'either rain already or go away' type. The front of dark rain clouds reached towards the setting sun at her back, the wind trailing the ends into whispery tendrils that pulled the darkening body along, promising rain. The resulting picture of the red and orange horizon with creeping purple and blue was quite breath-taking. She had always thought it beautiful when the sun was setting.

The sun was setting. More time had passed by than she had realized. A glance back at the sight made her sigh, a clear-cut visual as night met day, dark to light. At least the carnival was just starting and maybe she would be able to unwind. Ino was always good for that. She ambled on, cresting the almost meager hill of the road when her breath hitched painfully at a group of people just down the way from her.

There he was.

* * *

They were going over final preparations, really just a rendezvous point before they left the village, so they could all head out to the mission destination as one. Four of the other five members wore their cloaks to ward against the rain drops. The other, like himself, really didn't care; it wasn't even really raining. He nodded to a question asked and stiffened slightly, turning towards the presence he felt. He knew the figure silhouetted upon the hill, backlit by the reds and oranges of the setting star. He could feel the hurt and despair in her tense shoulders from where he stood.

* * *

He looked different but she'd know him anywhere. The strange tight clothes were so unusual for him. The arms were in black, the white vest thin, the shoulders bare, a small sword was strapped to his back, and the pants were no longer absurdly baggy over thin legs. Rather, the wrappings of what she knew to be the jounin uniform that otherwise gave it away were not needed here; his lean frame was quite obvious in these clothes. For a moment she almost doubted it was him, almost thought it a visiting ninja from the lack of identifying headband and foreign uniform, but the hair was too familiar. It was the mask that gave him away, though. She knew that profiled face by heart and it pulsed in pain as he turned to face her.

It was then that the obscure mar on his shoulder was made clearer, his previous position of facing mostly away giving way to all branches of knowledge as his chest was almost at its broadest view. What she had thought to be some attachment of his uniform revealed itself to be a tattoo. It wouldn't be until much later in a similar circumstance and closer proximity that she would label it as an abstract of the Konoha Leaf.

'_ANBU_,' her mind whispered, hoarse even in her head. It all made sense.

She hated that it did.

She looked at him, he at her, in these streets deserted for the light rain and festival celebrations. Their eyes met and from here she couldn't see the sharingan, couldn't see that he was any different, any more distinguished than another.

And yet she was held captive as the fading light of the setting sun washed over his shoulder, the curves and valleys of the muscles emblazoned upon it, bathing them in warm radiance; he stood out all the more.

The patter of over-burdened and heavy drops were so few, but it was enough in the dying day to begin to chill. Her shoulders quivered, his eyes intense and her thoughts jumbled, body stilled in the horror that was indecision. Ino's voice was suddenly in her ear, asking what her problem was, who they were, why she wasn't already at the carnival, unresisting as the good friend hauled her wooden doll-like body away. She couldn't even summon the strength to tear her gaze from his.

* * *

Genma smirked around the senbon and his sideways glance, watching Hatake's eyes narrow ever-so-slightly in what he'd long since learned to read as uncertainty.

'What?' it asked of him without words.

"Nothing," he answered, smirk still in place, only growing at the open puzzlement the other man focused on him. "I think she just realized her teacher is a _man_."

The other turned away towards the empty hilltop, brow momentarily drawn together in consideration before facing his team, brushing it off with indifference. They had a mission.

* * *


End file.
